Calm The Storm
by BubblyBanter
Summary: Recovering from the sudden death of her mother, Kyra Bentley moves to Beacon Hills to live with her mostly absent father. She soon finds herself mixed up in a string of mysterious murders and werewolves. But what happens when she is no longer able to tell the difference between nightmare and reality? Stiles/OC
1. Wake Up, Mom

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Teen Wolf. **

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Perfection is a dream, that's why it always ends. For Kyra Bentley, it ended two and a half months ago. June first, to be exact. Summer break was close. Students began fidgeting in their seats and gushing about vacation plans, even teachers had bounce in their step as they gave lectures.

It was storming. Usually Mom would pick her up so she didn't have to walk in bad weather, but she never showed. After thirty minutes of waiting and giggling at the frantic students clutching their umbrellas, she pulled up the hood of her dark gray jacket and trudged home. Storms were fine. Great actually. They kept their oxygen source living and gave everyone an excuse to stay inside all day. It was the thunder that made her heart throb and breathing unsteady. The way it rumbled through the air felt like a warning.

When she finally made it home, Mom's car was in the driveway. Which was unusual seeing as she had slightly stranded her. Kyra shrugged, maybe she had just gotten busy and it slipped her mind.

When Kyra walked inside, goose bumps raised on her arms from the cool air and deafening silence.

"Mom?" She called, but received no answer. She kicked off her shoes and made her way to her mom's bedroom. Knocking on the door, she creaked it open and stepped inside. Her eyes immediately met her mother's lifeless corpse, pale fingers still gripping an empty pill bottle.

The next few hours were fuzzy. She remembers screaming and shaking her mother, begging her to wake up. Her memory then skips over to calling an ambulance and the old lady on the receiver telling her to calm down and tell her everything. Kyra's not even sure if she did or not because the only other memories she has of that day is a mix of frantic sobbing and people she didn't know saying how sorry they were for her loss.

Mom had been suffering with depression for a long time. As far as Kyra knew, it just meant that she was a bit quieter around the holidays and spent most of her free time in sleeping. She left no note. Her mother had lost her job that day and people figured she just snapped. But they would never know the real reason for sure, that was the hardest part.

Since her parents divorced before she could walk properly, Kyra didn't know her dad that well. He was just some guy named Russ who sent cheesy birthday cards and asked her to come visit around holidays. Not that she ever did. Whenever she would ask, her mom's eyes glinted with betrayal and she wouldn't speak for the rest of the day. Now, she had no choice. He was the only living family member she had left.

When Russ arrived, he was taller and kinder than she remembered. He had a bristly beard that covered most of his face and drove a white, 1999 Ford Ranger. As soon as she approached him, he wrapped her in a bear-like hug that said more than he could speak and helped her get things together.

At this point in mourning, Kyra wasn't talking. It was like her brain had shutdown, leaving her with a dazed, numb feeling. When people would speak, it was dull and unimportant. Besides, she figured if she started speaking she would start crying again and that's not what she wanted. She wanted to be strong. She wanted to get this over with.

When they attended the funeral, Kyra sat quietly next to her father. She wondered what kind of house the bald, wrinkly preacher lived in and if he was happy with his life. The lady who fired her mother showed up. She wore a fake, black rose in her blonde hair and even cried a little. It all just felt like a show. The preacher only carried on about heaven, in all its glory, so grieving friends could imagine her mother in utopia and move on with their lives. Kyra wanted to hate them. The monotoned preacher, the sniffling boss that caused this, but she couldn't. It all felt surreal, like a cheap movie where the choir starts singing and the corpse jumps back to life and dances. But there was no choir. And her mother was dead.

When it was over, Dad led her back to the car, his arm wrapped tightly around her shoulder. He bought the two of them curly fries and a milkshake and asked if she wanted to talk about it. She shook her head and that was that.

Kyra ended up only keeping her clothes, phone, and laptop. Everything else felt like dead weight that held pieces of her past life. She was now moving to a town called Beacon Hills. Her dad rambled on about how it was smaller than she was used to but the people were nice and, "...there's never a dull moment."

"I'm sure it will be great." The first words Kyra spoke since that day, her voice raspy from lack of use. Dad nodded enthusiastically and put a hand on her shoulder, smiling. He glanced in her direction once or twice before putting his hand back on the steering wheel and focusing on the road. The mood being a bit lighter than before.

When they arrived in Beacon, it only took one trip to bring her bags inside. The room Kyra was given was simple, but nice. The walls were dark blue and dust flew around the room, making her sneeze more than once. It contained only a twin-sized bed and desk.

"I kept this in case you ever came to visit or something. You can fix it up however you want, do your thing." So Kyra did. The amount of cleaning that needed to be done, even around the rest of the house, was a little overwhelming. It looked like no one had lived here in months. He asked her not clean, that he'd get to it eventually, but she insisted. Kyra needed something to keep her busy. Something to keep her mind from wandering.

This went on for a month. Every little thing she could clean, she did. Windows and mirrors were wiped multiple times, no traces of dust could be seen on any counter top, dishes were neatly stored away and shining brighter than ever before. And she was only sleeping for a couple of hours each night. The idea of unconsciousness being anymore than a blank, coma-like state terrified her. Dad was starting to notice. As she mopped the kitchen floor one day for the third time, he leaned against the door frame, "Sweetie. I think it's as clean as it's going to get."

"Is that a challenge?" She smiled but he didn't laugh.

"You've been at this for a month. I understand you're dealing with this in your own way, but don't you want to talk about it?" She stopped mopping and stared at him, "Look, I know how hard this is..."

"Dad. Don't."

"I'm serious, Ky. It's confusing. And it hurts. I'm sorry that this happened, but working yourself in the ground isn't going to make this any easier." He hung his head and looked up at her again, "I know that we had our differences, your mother and I. And I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you as much as I could have been. I mean, look at you. You're old now." He smiled and she felt a small grin tug at the corner of her lips as well, "But I want you to be okay. And now that you're here, I want to make sure I'm doing everything in my power to ensure it."

Kyra laid the mop against the counter and pulled herself to full height, "Dad, none of this is on you. I know that you're trying and I appreciate it. But I guess this is how my brain heals. Distractions. It's no use lingering on something I can't change."

"But you need to-"

"Talk? Cry and talk about my feelings? No thanks. It's not how I work." She saw him slump against the door frame and sighed, "Hey, you're doing great. And I really do appreciate it. But this is not how I expected to spend summer break. It's like I'm in shock, you know? I'll deal with it when I'm ready to."

He pursed his lips and nodded, "Okay. I can understand that." He paused and pointed a finger at the floor, "You missed a spot." She glared at him as he pranced away. And started mopping again.

When the second month came, to Dad's relief, the cleaning phase was over. Kyra was starting to function like sane human being again. Well, as sane as she could manage. For the couple of hours a night she actually slept, it felt restless. She'd jump awake multiple times, sometimes with sweat beaded on her forehead and heart pounding in her chest. Black circles formed under her eyes, which she made sure to drench in makeup. Russ didn't need to start worrying again.

Around the beginning of August, the day after registering for classes at Beacon Hills High School, Russ sat her down and talked about his job. He was an over-the-road truck driver, meaning he usually was only home for a couple of days out of the week. That explained why his house wasn't taken care of. He had taken two months off, which was quite a bit and he needed to start working again. Russ made it clear that he was more than willing to quit if she wasn't okay with it, but Kyra assured him that she would be fine alone. In her opinion, she functioned better by herself anyway. It would be nice not to have a pair of worried eyes on her at all times. And since he was about to be gone quite a bit, he surprised her with a blue 1996 Ford Mustang. Needless to say, his absence was well compensated for.

Russ woke her early to say goodbye before leaving. He wrapped her in a hug and wished her luck on her first day of school, to which Kyra groaned dramatically and he laughed. He explained that if she needed anything at all, Sheriff Stilinski and his son lived across the street and would be more than happy to help.

When she heard Russ' truck leave the driveway, she slowly crawled out of bed and wiped the sleep from her eyes. She stretched and then sat back down at the end of the bed, letting the silence really sink in. Since Dad hadn't left much since Mom died, his absence felt very irking, so she grabbed her phone and turned on music. It was time to get ready for this.

After showering and blow drying her hair, she straightened it. Her long, brown hair looked even darker than usual against her pale skin. Even the few freckles under her eyes seemed darker. She chuckled to herself and thought about how it was probably a metaphor for her heart or something. She applied mascara carefully and, when her eyelashes were long enough to meet expectations, grabbed dark red lipstick to increase the effect. If there was one thing she was going to look today, it was strong. Tough, even. She repeated her lines, "I'm Kyra Bentley. I moved here over the summer. Why here? Oh, my dad was just following his job. I don't know much about it. My mom definitely did not kill herself two months ago. I like your shirt."

Once her makeup was done she trudged over to her closet and grabbed the outfit she had planned. A white blouse tucked into a black high-waisted skirt that went down to her mid thigh. She then threw on some tights and grabbed her leather jacket and black heel boots. After putting on a silver knuckle ring, she slung her backpack over one shoulder, threw her phone in her jacket pocket, and hopped down the stairs.

The clock on the stove admitted she still had thirty minutes until class began. Kyra snatched a granola bar from the counter and, after locking the door, sped down the street to her first day of school.

When she arrived, Kyra sat in the car for a couple minutes doing breathing exercises. Typically, she handled school well and was great around new people, but it was the anticipation beforehand that always got to her. All the kids were happily greeting friends they hadn't seen all summer but not her. She was an outsider in this small town.

When her confidence was at it's peak, she stepped out of the car and searched for her designated bench. A black one at the front of the school. She walked passed students lazily making their way towards the school. She was quite certain she heard the words, A wolf bit you? leave the mouth of some boy, but she shook her head and tried to focus. The bench. Where was the bench, again?

She spent her last few minutes searching for it, other kids were already in class. Finally her memory caught up and she found where she was supposed to be but, surprisingly, a girl was already sitting there. Kyra plopped down next to her and stuck out her hand, "Kyra Bentley. New here."

The girl shook it gratefully, "Allison Argent. Also new here." They both laughed and Kyra felt the tension ease just a bit.

"Are you as nervous as I am?" Allison bit her lip as she asked.

"I think I'd be less nervous in a shark tank." Allison smiled but was interrupted with ringing. She sent Kyra an apologetic smile and rummaged in her bag until she found her phone.

"Mom, three calls on my first day is a little over doing it." She paused as she listened and continued to search through her bag. "Everything except a pen. Oh my god, I didn't actually forget a pen." She paused again and Kyra nudged her, in warning of the approaching adviser. "Okay, okay. Gotta go, love ya."

They both stood up as the man approached them and seemed to continue an earlier conversation, "Sorry to keep you waiting. So, you were saying San Fransisco is where you grew up?" They both looked at Allison expectantly.

"No," she admitted, "but we lived there for more than a year, which is unusual for my family." Kyra nodded in understanding.

"Well hopefully Beacon Hills will be your last stop for awhile. You'll be pleased to know that both of you have first period together." Both Allison and Kyra let out a sigh of relief and smiled at each other. Since the adviser already knew of Kyra's situation, they walked in silence the rest of the way. She mentally thanked him for that.

When they reached the door, he opened it and walked them inside.

"Class these are our new students, Allison Argent and Kyra Bentley. Do your best to make them feel welcome." With that, he smiled politely and left them to their fate. There were only two open desks in the room. Allison ended up behind a guy with big brown eyes and fluffy, dark hair and Kyra sat behind a boy with a shaved head and Captain America shirt. She remembered him as the wolf boy from earlier. That made her smirk. His eyes followed her to the desk. She pretended not to notice as he dramatically turned back to the front of the room, wiping his face in a flustered way. She leaned back in her seat and smiled to herself.

When Kyra looked up, the boy with dark hair was offering Allison a pen. She wouldn't have thought anything of it but when she took the pen, it few moments passed before they actually stopped staring at each other. Kyra rolled her eyes, happy for her, as the teacher began his lecture on Kafka's Metamorphosis.

As the day wore on, Kyra kept her head held high as if on a battleground. A couple of people politely introduced themselves, but no one that she would probably ever talk to again. Except for Allison. Being attached at the hip between classes made things so much easier. And seeing as Kyra's only had her concerned father to speak with for two months, she had quite a bit to say. They both walked through the hall as she rambled on about how hot dogs were supposed to be named Dachshund dogs, "...but the poor guy had no idea how to spell Dachshund! Imagine, you create something life changing and can't properly name it. Tragic, in my opinion."

"Life changing?" Allison giggled and opened her locker.

"Yes, life changing!" Kyra laughed as she said it and began idly playing with the zipper on her jacket. When she looked up, a realized a pair of big brown eyes were staring at Allison and the girl was happily staring back. Kyra almost lost it laughing but then another girl with strawberry blonde hair approached.

"I like your outfit," she directed at Kyra. Her grin dropped but before she could respond the girl had already turned to Allison. "And that jacket is totally killer. Where'd you get it?"

"My mom was a buyer for a boutique back in San Fransisco."

"And you two are my new best friends." The girl smiled as a boy walked up. "Hey Jackson," she said sweetly as they went in for a passionate kiss. Allison and Kyra both shot each other amused glances. When she turned her attention back to them, they gave proper introductions. The girl, who Kyra learned was named Lydia Martin, smacked her lips. "So, this weekend, there's a party."

"A party?" Allison asked, obviously surprised to be invited to a party on her first day of school.

"Yeah, Friday night," the boy, Jackson, answered as he leaned against the lockers, "You should come. Both of you."

"Uhh, " Allison stumbled over her lie, "I can't. It's family night this Friday. Thanks for asking."

Kyra stuck with a simple, "Yeah, I don't know."

"Are you guys sure? I mean, everyone's going after the scrimmage." Jackson looked at the two of them, obviously disappointed. Kyra shrugged.

"You mean like football?" Allison said hopefully.

"Football's a joke at Beacon," Allison visibly shrunk as he continued, "The sport here's lacrosse. We won the state championship for the past three years."

"Because of our team captain." Lydia scooted closer to him.

"We have practice in a few minutes. That is, if you don't have anywhere else to.."

"Well, I was going to-," Allison was cut of by Lydia, "Perfect. You're both going."

She grabbed both of their hands and tugged them along. Kyra smiled with of surprise and shock at Lydia's persistence, at least she didn't have to worry about not making friends here.

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**Author's Note: Okay guys, I hope you liked it! I know Kyra's introduction was a bit long, but I really wanted you to get a feel of what she went through. Also, I created some of my own scenes (obviously) to start out Styra's friendship. Please review and let me know what you think!**

**Songs**

**The drive to Beacon Hills: Calm The Storm by Graffiti6  
**

**Obsessive cleaning: Bookworm by Margot And The Nuclear So & So's**

**Getting ready for school: A Shell Across The Tongue by Drowners**


	2. Batman Forever

**Thanks for all the favorites and follows! Also, thanks Red red red ribbon and It Belongs In A Museum for the reviews! They are very much appreciated!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf. **

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Lydia Martin dragged Kyra and Allison onto the stands next to the lacrosse field. Some boys were already sweating profusely from warm up, but she couldn't tell if they had worked themselves too hard or were nervous about making first string. She noticed Captain America and Allison's boy slowly making their way to practice. She hadn't noticed it before but, by the way the way the-boy-who-sat-in-front-of-her-in-English was prattling on, they seemed to be close friends. She was so distracted by the discovery, she almost didn't notice the way Allison and her obvious crush were ogling at each other. Kyra nudged her jokingly and her face flushed before turning to the girl on her other side.

"Who is that?"

"Him?" Lydia stared at the boy for a moment, "I'm not sure who he is. Why?"

"He's in my English class." Allison was not good at subtlety when it concerned her crush on this boy. Kyra smiled to herself and decided to take a good look around the field. Boys were starting to line up, seemingly to try and make a shot in the goal. She noticed Captain America was energetically fidgeting on the bench and smiled, amused at his enthusiasm for the sport but lack of participation.

Suddenly, a whistle was blown and people started laughing. "Yeah, way to get hit in the face McCall!" Some boy yelled. She jerked her head up and realized Allison's crush was lying on his back in the goal. She cringed for him as he stood and tried to regain composure. Then, something happened that seemed to surprise everyone even Finstock. The brown-eyed boy caught the next one. And the next one. Some catches were so swift and graceful, they seemed impossible. This went on for a while and she heard Allison say to Lydia, "He seems pretty good."

"Very good." Lydia said, absorbed in what was happening. Kyra nodded her head in agreement as they continued watching.

Then Jackson, the team captain, stepped up. Clearly sick of all the attention another player was receiving. Everyone on the field went quiet. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lydia shift in her seat. You could almost feel the tension in the air as he went for a running start and threw the ball. McCall caught it in one fluid motion. Everyone cheered. Some stood up in the stands and Kyra noticed the-boy-who-sat-in-front-of-her-in-English jump up and make hilarious victory noises followed by, "That's my friend!" Even Lydia stood up and cheered. Allison smiled smugly at her.

* * *

When Kyra finally got away from the school, she threw her backpack into the passenger seat and flew home. When she stepped into the house, the silence stopped her. That's right, Russ was gone. She threw her bag on the counter and raided the fridge. She found a Milkyway bar he had left and took a bite. Chocolate. Refrigerated chocolate. Her weakness. She happily sighed.

Then, an idea to evade the looming silence popped into her head. Kyra marched over to the bookshelf in the living room. Her eyes scanned the dusty covers until they landed on one that sparked her interest: Pictures of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. She snatched the book and an old blanket draped over the couch then made her way outside.

Kyra shuffled around the front lawn until she found a nice patch of grass and tossed down the blanket. When she fixed it, she laid on her stomach flipped open the book. Her world was instantly shed as she entered that of Dorian, Basil, and Lord Henry. Experiencing the story of a boy whose obsession with youth drove him to complete madness. She didn't know how long she was there. Dorian had just picked up a knife, seemingly about to commit murder, when a shadow fell onto the pages. "Hey, new girl."

Kyra jumped and looked up. It was no one other than the-boy-who-sat-in-front-of-her-in-English standing there. She tilted her head to the side casually and smiled, "Hey, Captain America."

The boy looked confused and then looked down at his knock-off Marvel shirt in understanding, he laughed nervously and pointed a finger at her, "Oh, ha-ha, you are good. Really good. My real name is Stiles. I sit in front of you in English."

"Well, Stiles," Kyra smiled at the thought of finally having a name to go with a face and put down her book, "My name is Kyra and I happen to remember you. How's your friend?"

Stiles face twisted into one of confusion, "My- what? Why?"

"He was bitten by a wolf, wasn't he?" Kyra stood up and brushed off her skirt.

"Uhh, Scott? He's great! Yeah, really good! Healing right up!" He flashed two thumbs up and seemed to anxiously bounce on his heels, "How'd you know about that?"

"Your voice kind of.. projects."

"Is that a nice way of calling me a loud-mouth?" He crossed his arms.

She shook her head, "Not loud. Enthusiastic."

"Enthusi-" He exhaled dramatically, "Well, I guess that's not so bad. As positive as a connotation can be." His gaze wandered to the blanket on the ground, "Why were you laying on your front lawn anyway?"

Kyra rolled her eyes theatrically, "Because I hear fresh air is good for you. Like, really good for you. It increases your brain power."

He furrowed his brows at her skeptically, "Has that theory been proven?"

"Of course! Look, at this book!" She pointed at the book lying a few feet from them, "I walked outside and it just appeared in my hand. No idea how it happened."

"Oh god," his eyes widened as he nodded in understanding, "I think I've heard of this."

"You have?" Kyra blinked for a second, confused.

"Definitely." He looked her dead in the eyes, "You're Oprah Winfrey."

She stared at him for a moment, really soaking in what he just said. Suddenly, she busted out laughing, "Oprah?!"

Stiles smirked to himself, proud of his successful joke, "Yes! Come on, you have your own channel, it can't be that bad."

She gave him an odd smile, "Okay, we've established why I'm in my own yard. Let's get to the real question: why are you in my yard, Stiles?"

He froze for a moment, realizing he had no excuse. It must have only took a moment to regain himself because then he flung his arms out in front of him, "If it's okay with you, I was meeting my new neighbor! I didn't even know you moved in with Russ until- like- yesterday. Dad told me about it. I would have said something in English but I didn't know if it was you or the Allison chick and man, saying that to the wrong person would have been weird."

Kyra nodded in understanding, "You must be Sheriff Stilinski's son. You live across the street."

Stiles looked happy to be remembered in some way, "Yeah! That's me. Right here. In the flesh. If you ever need to borrow flour or something, that's what I'm for- according to society."

She smiled and shook her head, "I don't think I'll be needing flour anytime soon." She yawned and stretched her arms. As much as she tried to hide it, the sleepless nights were starting to catch up with her. "Now coffee. That's what I need."

Stiles seemed to drift off for a second, then jumped, "Hey! Dad just made some, actually. He wouldn't mind giving up a cup. He really wants to meet you."

Kyra put her hand on the back of her head, scrunching hair between her fingers, "I don't know... I mean, are you sure?"

"I don't know if Russ told you, but made my dad responsible for you. You either get a free cup of coffee or Dad stages a random check-up sometime this week. Your choice, new girl."

"Coffee it is!" Kyra instantly clapped her hands, "But first, I really need to put this stuff back." she scooped up the book and blanket and ran inside. She tossed them onto the sofa and ran up to her room. For a moment, she lingered on putting back on her heels but the idea of wearing them for another hour made her groan. Instead, she reached inside her closet and grabbed a pair of red, high top Chuck Taylor's and slipped them on over the tights.

When she ran back outside, Stiles was shuffling his feet in the grass. She smiled apologetically, "Ready now. Sorry about that."

The two of them crossed the street, Stiles leading the way. He opened the front door and they stepped inside. Now, if there is one thing Kyra loved about houses, it would be the way some instantly made you feel comfortable. The ones where no one cared if you took your shoes off or not and you were absolutely certain you could sit on that one couch without pissing anyone off. Those really felt like home. And as Kyra walked into the Stilinski's kitchen, she felt relaxed. That was the second she knew that her and Stiles would be good friends. Funny, the things a house can make you feel.

Stiles' dad was sitting at the kitchen table, enjoying a rather large cup of coffee. When they walked in, he looked up from the sheet of paper he was reading. "Hey Dad, this is our new neighbor- Kyra- she came to steal coffee."

Kyra shook her head and waved her hands around, "But only if you have a ton extra and you're okay with it- I, uhh" Before she could say anything else, Sheriff Stilinski stood from the table and wrapped her in a quick hug. "It's, uh, nice to meet you too." She said, slightly in shock as he walked back to the sheets he had been staring at.

"It's really great to meet you Ky, Russ has told me so much about you. Unfortunately, I have paperwork that I've procrastinated for far too long. I need to go to the station but I should be back in a couple of hours. We can catch up then." He smiled, "Also, I'll make you a deal: you can have the rest of the coffee as long as you keep this one-" he wiggled his finger at his son, "-out of trouble for the next two hours."

Stiles' mouth dropped in horror and Kyra couldn't suppress a giggled, "Anything for coffee." His dad smiled and nodded, quickly shuffling up the paperwork and running for the door.

"You're making her my babysitter?! Really, Dad?"

"Have fun, kids! See you soon!" The sheriff winked and quickly closed the door behind him.

"Well," Stiles stated plainly, "that was rude."

Kyra laughed again and put on her most intimidating voice, which was dramatically low with the hint of a Boston accent, "Hey, show me where the cups are, punk."

"This is awful. That accent was terrible." He dragged his feet to one of the cabinets and pulled out a cup. He poured her coffee for her and sat at one of the chairs, sliding the cup to a place across from him.

She practically skipped over to the table and plopped down in the chair, "I like your dad."

He paused, running his finger along the edge of the table. Suddenly, the mood of the room changed, "Did you know that Russ and Dad have been friends since high school?"

"I- I didn't. No." Kyra scrunched her face, confused.

"They were." He looked up at her with a strange expression, "When my mom died, Russ was there. He cooked for us, babysit me when Dad needed to be alone. This went on for months. I don't know how we would have made it without him."

Kyra blinked for a moment and spoke carefully, "Why are you telling me this?"

"You need to know why my dad needs you around. He feels like he'll never properly be able to repay your dad for all that he did for us. Like- I don't know if you noticed- but he just freaking bribed you to stick around for a couple of hours. He's trying to mend you like Russ mended us." Stiles leaned back in his chair, "He would have started much earlier but, lucky for you, Russ insisted that you needed time alone."

Kyra took a drink of her coffee, the warmth felt nice on her throat, "It's kind of him to worry but- truly- I'm fine. I handle things better alone."

Stiles smiled sadly and stood up, pushing his chair back underneath the table, "I get it- the 'fine' thing. I do. And you keep doing that for as long as you need to. But once you decide isolation isn't for you, you've got your dad. And you have us. We're here." As if a switch had been flipped, Stiles changed instantly to his normal demeanor, "Hey!" He jogged out of the kitchen and came back with a DVD, clearly excited, "I was going to watch Batman today. Batman Forever, actually. Would you- uh- want to watch?"

Kyra's thoughts jumbled at the sudden change of topic, "What- uh- yeah, that- that sounds great. Batman Forever. I've never seen it."

"You've nev- what? But it's Batman," He waved the disk in her face, "Forever!"

She shook her head, letting out a small smile at the return of his enthusiasm. He huffed, "Well, we're going to change that."

He led the way into their living room and popped the disk into the player. When he turned back around, she was huddled against an arm of the couch. He dropped on the other end of the couch- resting his head on the arm, his legs like a pyramid on the middle cushion.

They were quiet throughout most of the film, which she was grateful for. Occasionally she would ask questions or Stiles would pause the movie to to tell her fun facts about the actors or something that happened during shooting. It was odd how comfortable she felt around him now. Maybe it was because she liked their house or because Stiles had shared a little bit of his life with her. Maybe Stiles made everyone feel like this around him, she didn't know. When the film ended and Kyra finished up the last of the coffee, Stiles let her know that his dad would be running late and so they'd have to catch up later. With that, she explained that she had homework and made her way back home.

Kyra walked slowly up the stairs to her room- feeling more exhausted than usual- despite the coffee. She changed into pajamas and crawled into bed. For a moment, she felt thankful that homework was just an excuse because she hadn't felt this tired in ages.

As Kyra drifted off to sleep, her last thoughts lingered on something she did not expect: Scott McCall. The fact that he had been bitten by a wolf in the same town she was now living in. She sleepily wondered if wolves were common in Beacon Hills and if they were something to be concerned about. With that, she pulled the covers closer to her face and finally drifted out of consciousness.

* * *

**Thank you for reading! I know I'm going slowly through the first episode, but there are so many things to establish! She's finally befriended Stiles, learned about his dad and Russ, and has already started lingering on Scott's wolf bite. I don't plan on doing many scenes I create totally, but I felt this one was needed to get the story moving along. **

**Songs**

**School is over: I Could Go by Oberhofer**

**Serious talk with Stiles: Pull Me In by The Graduate **


End file.
